


A Matter of Choice (Redux)

by Jupiter_Ash



Series: A Kind of Magic [3]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-28
Updated: 2019-08-28
Packaged: 2020-09-28 18:43:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20430668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jupiter_Ash/pseuds/Jupiter_Ash
Summary: Another little Hogwarts Good Omens style fic, because these things are addictive.Anthony J. Crowley was born to be a Slytherin. He just chose to be otherwise.Crowley's version of the sorting hat moment.





	A Matter of Choice (Redux)

Anthony J. Crowley was born to be a Slytherin. He was cunning, he was crafty, and he had eyes like a snake.

There were many theories around why his eyes were as they were, most of them not very nice, but if there was one thing he had heard constantly it was that he was born a Slytherin. 

His family had always been Slytherin, not just his immediate family, but his wider family as well. The wider family that included people like Hastur. Pure bloods they were, for the most part, not in the same league as the richer, better connected ones, but pure in that they had generations after generations of Slytherins looking down on them from their dusty old portraits.

At least people presumed Crowley was a pure blood - it was the eyes that did it – but since his mother had never said who his father was, and he had his mother’s Crowley name, for all he knew he could actual be a half-blood.

Or worse, if he listened to the rumours.

One thing he did know though was that he did not want to be a Slytherin.

He really, really, _really_ did not want to be a Slytherin.

While it was true that he was cunning, crafty and resourceful, that was more out of self-preservation than anything else. When growing up in a nest of snakes you had to act like one just to survive. So he did, but that didn’t mean that he liked it. He wasn’t particularly interested in their little power games, or their ambitions, he just wanted something a little more genuine, a little less two-faced, where he didn’t end up exhausting himself wondering if there were hidden messages in everything that was being said.

He just wanted to be himself.

Provided that that wasn’t a Gryffindor, because those guys were nuts. Noble and daring, sure, but they seriously had no sense of self-preservation. And honestly the arrogance was just plain nauseating. If they wanted to think they were better than everyone else, then sure, go ahead, just leave him out of it.

Anyway, he was pretty sure that being sorted into Gryffindor would have him at the very least banished from the family with the likelihood of suddenly dying in mysterious circumstances.

So, not Gryffindor, and not Slytherin either.

So one of the other two.

At this point he didn’t really care which.

Then he met the boy on the train.

Aziraphale Fell, because apparently his family didn’t like him much either to give him a name like that. Bright, bubbly, kind and as much not wanting to be sorted into his traditional family house as Crowley did. He had also been doing research, and apparently the hat took your own wishes into consideration. So if he said he didn’t want to be in Slytherin or Gryffindor then apparently the hat would take that into consideration.

He just hoped that the other boy was right, because the other option was running away. Running far, far away.

“Crowley, Anthony.”

The hat slipped down his forehead, blocking out much of the hall, including all of those over at the Slytherin table.

He took a deep breath.

“HUFFLEPUFF!” the hat shouted.

He heard the sneers from the Slytherin table and he ignored them. He ignored them all. He had done it.

_“Ravenclaw?”_ he had tentatively asked after he and the hat had mutually agreed that both Slytherin and Gryffindor were not for him.

_“An appreciation for knowledge, I see,”_ the hat had said back, _“but more than that a thirst for acceptance, for tolerance, for kindness. What you most desire is warmth and affection. You won’t find that amongst those who compete for perfection.”_

Deep down Crowley had known that, knew that the hat spoke the truth, but he had thought it worth a go. And Hufflepuff wouldn’t be so bad. They protected their own. And he had always rather liked black.

Of course many of them had heard the rumours too, knew about the Slytherin kid with the snake eyes who tried to hide them behind tinted glasses. So they greeted him as he was now one of them, but it was restrained. He took pity of them though and took a seat at the end, slouching, head down as he waited for the rest of the sorting.

“Fell, Aziraphale.”

He held his breath again. Ravenclaw he thought desperately. Please don’t let him be put into Gryffindor. Let him get his choice.

“HUFFLEPUFF!”

He gasped in surprise along with others in the hall. It sounded as if the Gryffindors were taking the sorting as well the Slytherins had taken his. Their surprise though was nearly as great as his own.

Hufflepuff?

“I thought you were going to ask to be a-a Ravenclaw?” he asked quietly as the boy took the seat next to him.

Aziraphale straightened his shoulders, a small smile on his face. “I was,” he said brightly, “but then I realised there was something that I wanted more. Something better.”

And Aziraphale was looking at him, all bright and cheery and smiling, no doubts in his choice, no regrets, just genuine acceptance and affection and _friendship_, and in the face of all that Crowley couldn’t help but smile back.


End file.
